The Devil in Dean
by mainegirlwrites
Summary: E/O Challenge: House picture. The Winchester brothers have to move fast to reverse a strange curse placed on Dean!


E/O Challenge: House picture

Spoilers: None

Warnings: None

Summary: The Winchester brothers have to move fast to reverse a strange curse placed on Dean.

Words: Approx 775

**The Devil In Dean**

Sam fought to keep his balance on the sloping floor.

"Dean, wait up!" he whispered harshly to the older Winchester. Dean's gruff response came from around the corner.

"Move your ass, Sammy!"

It was 11:30 at night, and the brothers were searching through a decrepit old Victorian mansion searching for a hex bag. Besides sloping floors, the house suffered from gaps in the ceiling, rickety stairs, bats, rats, spider webs, and just anything else that might make looking for a small hex bag….

"….damn near impossible."

That's what Sam said to Dean about three hours ago as they stood outside the manor, planning their entrance.

"Do you know how many possible hiding spaces there could be in this place?" Sam said incredulously.

"I know, I know," responded Dean. "But are you gonna help a brother out, or what?"

Sam tried not to look at his brother. Every time he did, a huge gaw-hawfing laugh exploded from his chest. A witch, angry with Dean, had place a curse on him. Dean's skin was beginning to turn orange, and in some places, it was already an angry red. Two small black horns were beginning to emerge from the sides of his head. He was changing into the ultimate caricature of Satan.

Dean scratched his ass. "I think I'm beginning to grow a tail," he complained bitterly.

Sam coughed to hide a laugh. "Dude, we better start looking. We only have until midnight….if we don't find that hex bag, I am not sure _how_ we are going to reverse this curse." Sam paused for a heartbeat, and then added, "That would mean the only time you would get lucky with the ladies is on Halloween."

Dean looked at him, his mouth set in a firm, straight line. At this point, he was not sure which curse was worse – becoming transformed into a sad replica of the devil, or Sam's endless bad jokes.

That was three hours ago. Sam rubbed the back of his neck where he was sure a spider had dived down his shirt, and looked around helplessly. He was starting to feel sorry for Dean, but it was getting close to midnight and there was still no sign of the hex bag.

He waved his flashlight around the room, noting he could see the stars through the roof. "Hey, Dean!" he called to his brother. Dean crouched down in the next room and looked at Sam through a hole in the wall.

"Find somethin'?" Dean's tone was hopeful.

"No…," pondered Sam. "But I was just wondering, wasn't it me that was supposed to turn into the devil?" Sam grinned at his joke as Dean shook his head sadly and turned away. Sam heard him shout and there was a crash of wood as the floor collapsed under his brother.

"Dean!" Sam shot around the corner and looked down the hole where his brother had fallen.

"I'm okay!" Dean's muffled reply was two floors down. Sam turned and ran down the precarious staircase to find his brother. The beam of his flashlight reflected off a dusty chandelier over the stairs. Sam stopped and shone the light up at chandelier, and noticed a small, leather bag dangling from it, twenty feet above his head.

"I found it, Dean!" he shouted.

"For real?"

"Yeah, but it's too bad you didn't get turned into an angel…."

Dean appeared and started to climb the stairs. "Why?"

"Cause one of us is gonna have to fly up to that thing." Sam pointed the beam of light at the hex bag above their heads.

Dean clumsily attempted to pull his handgun from his waistband, but his nails had grown long and black. Sam wordlessly pulled his gun out and began to fire at the chandelier. The first few shots smashed some of the dangling crystals, but then with a creak and a groan, the light dropped from the ceiling onto the first floor of the foyer with a crash. Dean ran down the stairs and grabbed the hex bag, holding it triumphantly above his head.

Sam glanced at his watch. It was 11:55.

"Dean!" he warned. "Get a fire going, fast, we have to burn that thing!"

The brothers frantically fished through their pockets, searching for a lighter or matches. Dean stopped suddenly and looked at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked him.

Dean grinned, revealing fanged teeth. He dropped the hex bag onto the floor, and rubbed his hands over it. Sparks drifted down from between his hands, and lit the hex bag on fire.

"I guess there were some advantages to being a devil," shrugged Dean, his normal skin tone returning.


End file.
